Teaser
by Nikoru-chan
Summary: Second part of the backstory now up. We have a source for the voice Robin keeps hearing, but does that actually answer any of the Boy Wonder's questions?
1. Default Chapter

TEASER (ie. I've not gotten around to naming this fic.)

By Nikoru

DISCLAIMER: The characters portrayed herein are not mine. They belong to their creators and companies, none of whom include me. No profit is being made by this fic.

SPECIAL NOTE: Get them away from me! Those evil plot bunnies, I mean. They bite! There I was, innocently minding my own business writing an Interlude ficlet, and one of the little monsters sidles up to me, cute as you please, and takes a chomp out of my inspiration!  I mean, honestly!

It was a most unusual day. As in, a mark-it-on-your-calendar-because-it'll-never-occur-twice day. Some would have joked that hell would have frozen over before the event that made it so remarkable would happen, but as that had already transpired the jibe would have fallen rather flat.

Like most life-changing days, it had started out ordinary (though with the expert use of a retrospectoscope, one could have seen the makings of it as early as several months prior.)

The event in question revolved, as these events often do, around the Batman. And around Young Justice, for they were in a very real sense the perpetrators.

            For, you see, what happened was – put simply – this: Batman was rendered speechless. Oh, while he might often disdain to speak, or limit himself to a few choice threats, in this instance he was honestly, genuinely at a loss for words. 

            Nightwing, on the other hand, was most assuredly not. 

            "Let me get this straight," he gritted out, tenuous grip on calm slipping, "you allowed Robin – who was out cold because YOU gassed him – to be carried off by a gang of. . . people . . . including a recently-escaped ultimate weapon of destruction, a mass murderer, and a con-artist and card shark."

            "Umm . . . yeah." Briefly, Superboy wondered whether it'd be worthwhile using his TK to make the ground swallow him whole. _Probably not. Even if I escaped Nightwing, I bet Batman could find me again anyway, and whatever he did after that would be worse than the glare he's cracking at us now. If that's possible. Of course it's possible, this is the BAT we're talking about, there's ALWAYS worse!_

            "Without a fight."

            "Umm . . . yeah."  Wondergirl may not have had the TK option, but running away to Mount Olympus was sounding better all the time. _I should take my chances with the gods. Capricious and immensely powerful though they are, they're not half as scary as the Bat and his offsiders. And I used to think Nightwing was cute!_

            "Because they SAID they were his friends."

            "Ummyeah." Impulse knew he could run. He could run very very far and very very fast and maybe the nasty Batpeople would be left behind. But he'd still have to stop sometime for a break, and Batman would be waiting, looming. He'd always be waiting. Impulse shivered.

            "And you believed them."

  
            "Umm . . . Yeah."

            Nightwing's hands twitched. Batman laid a steadying hand on his shoulder, sharing a look with his son and former sidekick, _easy chum. He's your little brother, but he's also my partner. I get first dibs on strangling these idiots. _

            Nightwing glared back mutinously. _Then you'd better be fast!_

END TEASER

Notes: the events of Hell freezing over alluded to at the start refers to the 'Underworld Unleashed' storyline. 

**Looks around cautiously** There. I think the plot bunnies have gone. **Scampers off back to 'Interludes' before they can attack again.**


	2. Journey

JOURNEY 

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein belong to DC, which, as I understand it, is a subdivision of AOL/Time Warner. They are not mine. I am making no profit from this fic. 

NOTE: This is the follow-up to 'Teaser'. Actually it's the prequel. But 'Teaser' is still chapter one of this fic. Now that I've thoroughly confused everyone. . . 

There are a few circumstances where hearing voices in one's head is a good thing.

Martian Manhunter talking to you, for instance, or any of the other telepathic heroes. Like that blonde from the Legion, back when they visited the twentieth century. Saturn Girl, her name was. 

Unfortunately for Robin, this wasn't one of those times, so the voices he was hearing probably weren't a good sign. 

Tim Drake had awoken again to someone calling his name over and over, the tones varying from affection to annoyance and . . . was it longing? It wasn't the first time it had happened, but it was the clearest. Scooting out of bed, he frowned. //Everything I've read says that if I've got voices in my head they should be telling me to harm myself, or that aliens are going to come out of the TV or something. Not calling my name again and again and again. It's getting bloody irritating!// 

As he'd done repeatedly over the past few weeks, when he'd finally admitted to himself – though not to anyone else – that he was hearing voices, he analysed the feelings, the situation. It wasn't 'voices' that he was hearing, he realised, it was just one voice. He'd not been sure before this morning, but the voice was growing clearer and was now easily distinguishable as the high, pure tones of a girl or young boy.

It wasn't telling him anything, either. That was where the schizophrenic theory fell down. At least, to some extent. //I've been exposed to Crane's fear toxins a couple of times. Who knows what side effects they've had.// Tim thought miserably. //But even though he's fought Crane for longer, Batman's never mentioned voices. Heh, like **he** would.//

Once again, Tim reviewed the circumstances. He'd first heard the voice just after Young Justice had retrieved the Supercycle from its stasis. At the time, he'd thought one of his team-mates had called him, then that he'd mis-heard. The voice had been infrequent then, really just when he dreamed. It was still a dream-voice now, though it had changed from a faint call to a cry that woke him every morning. //Maybe that's all it is. A dream.// Tim thought, without much hope. //Yeah. And maybe it isn't getting louder, either. Right. Face it, Bird Boy, you're going nuts!//

With a sigh, he headed for the bathroom. A shower would feel good, and then he had to make tracks; it was Saturday and Young Justice were getting together for a general meeting and a bit of hanging out. 

******************************

"WILL YOU TWO KNOCK IT OFF!!!" Losing his cool, Robin bellowed across the room at the bickering Impulse and Superboy. Silence followed his shout as all the members of Young Justice turned, stunned, towards their team mate. Robin himself was equally shocked. He didn't yell. He didn't lose his temper. Threaten, yes, but yell? His training was better than that. 

Except that he just had. 

Without a further word, he gathered what was left of his composure and walked out of the room. //I really am going mad!//

Without a conscious thought, he found himself in the garage. The cycle, as always, looked happy to see him. With a faint smile, Robin rested his pounding forehead against the cool metal of the fender. The cycle purred gently. Snuggled against the machine, Robin briefly indulged in the feeling that, despite his outburst, all was right with the world. 

The voice, loud as a shout, sent his stomach churning. //I'm awake! I'm hearing it while I'm awake now?!// It was calling him, so hungrily, so desperately, that he couldn't refuse its cry. //It's so real! Too real.//

//Well, if I'm going to go psycho, I may as well do a proper job of it!// He decided, swinging himself into the pilot seat. The supercycle revved approvingly.  Behind him, Impulse and Superboy walked into the garage.

"Hey Rob, we've made up and we just wanted to . . .  where are you going?"

"You're taking the cycle? No fair having adventures without the rest of us! You can't still be mad with us?"

"No. It's calling me." 

"Calling you? Who's calling you?"

"I don't know. But I'm going to go find out, and then I'm gonna punch them in the nose!" He gave a disgusted snort as the Cycle lifted off, hovering briefly. "Later!"

"Um . . . Okay, what was that all about?" Staring after the rapidly vanishing cycle, a confused Superboy could only shrug in reply.

********************************


	3. journey2

Journey 

Part II

Rating: PG

Author: Nikoru

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein belong to DC. Well, except for my original characters, who by dint of being original, don't. No profit is being made from this fic. Please don't sue me. 

The Cycle left him half way up a mountain, somewhere in the nameless reaches of Tibet. At least, Robin thought it was Tibet. For all the attention he'd been paying on the cycle-ride over, it could well have been Nepal, India or even any of the higher mountains in Rheelasia.

Cheerful thought. 

Utterly disoriented, and, he feared, going stark raving mad, Robin did the only thing that seemed remotely reasonable. He followed the voice. Beckoning, cooing, now it even seemed to be begging. 

Amazing how many different nuances can be put in a name. //But whoever's calling me has had plenty of practice. Jerk.// His irritation warmed him, and he climbed steadily upwards, following the tug on his heart and mind, breath puffing mist in the icily still air. 

The climb was easier than he'd anticipated, for the Cycle had in fact set him down at the base of a crumbling, ancient staircase, hewn out of the living mountain. //A stair that starts half way up a nearly sheer cliff? Who – or what – would do such a thing? And in an area as deserted as this, why would you bother?// Frowning, he pulled out a small digital camera, snapping a shot of the path. 

Moving closer, he noted the glyphs carved into the steps. Crusted with the detritus of ages, they nonetheless stood out, paler grey against the indeterminate black of the rock they were carved in.  //I can't tell what sort of writing this is at all. It looks almost Nordic. And it's repeated, over and over, on every step. Identical. Some sort of prayer or something?// Shrugging, he took a close-up shot. He'd run both pictures through the database back in the cave. (Due to the unpredictable nature of Gotham's costumed criminals, the Crays, while specialising in forensic information, nonetheless had a wealth of other, more esoteric data. Including an exceptionally good translation programme for dead languages.)

The voice, louder and more insistent, broke him from his musing. Lips set in a grim line, Robin continued climbing. This was going to be one of the most well-deserved punches he ever landed. And land it, he was determined, was exactly what he'd do.

He hit the top abruptly, without fanfare.

He sighed, creating some small fanfare of his own. In front of him lay a cave. //Figures. All this way up, just to have to go down again.// Closer inspection, however, yielded an impasse. The cave's mouth was blocked by bar-like stalactites, biting down in a not quite regular pattern. //Nowhere here is there a gap big enough to fit through, even for someone as small as me.// Dispiritedly, Robin approached, wanting to test the strength of the ancient rock formations. //Perhaps if I kick one down.//

The shriek of joy brought him to his knees. 

Half conscious from the onslaught, Robin reached out blindly, fingers clutching at the bare rock pillars in front of him, bars that crumbled to dust at his touch. Too greatly distracted by the noise echoing through his mind, he did not see the brief flare of light that accompanied the disintegration, nor would he have recognised it for what it was. Not then, not until much later would he realise the significance of the event. As it was, he simply focussed on not passing out.

The noise in his mind did not lessen, but Robin managed to adjust to it just enough to raise his head. In front of him was a ragged being of indeterminate age and sex. Humanoid in appearance, though graced with large, dog-like ears and long matted hair tumbling from it's shaggy head, the creature was obviously half starving. Half starving, and utterly, ecstatically pleased to see him. Delight mirrored in huge, yellow eyes, it crouched. Every line screaming joy, it stared almost unbelievingly, seeming to fear that approaching him would cause Robin to vanish - to prove to be a dream. As if it's continued joyful chortles were all that would keep the boy wonder present. Faced with such overwhelming hope and joy, the echoes of it still ricocheting through his head, Robin said the first thing that came to mind. 

"Will you shut up!?" 

Silence. Total and utter. Yet though the voice that had haunted him over the past few months had gone, Robin realised that the sense of presence behind it, presence he'd been too distracted to fully register, remained. With a startled blink, it appeared the creature realised the same. If anything, this excited it more, and unleashed it into motion. 

It pounced, paw-like hands striking Robin squarely in the chest, knocking both of them to the ground. The being's mouth opened, revealing strong white teeth, incisors pointed and razor sharp. Sharp and long enough, certainly, to rip through a Kevlar and steel gorget like so much paper to get to the tender, vulnerable throat within. 

Not that Robin was worried in the slightest, though a small, analytical part of him wondered why that should be the case. As it was, his subconscious was proven correct by the rough licks that the creature plastered his face with, the shaggy tail that the being's sudden movement had revealed wagging furiously. 

//The being? No, that's not right is it. Your name is Fen.// Robin didn't know how it was that he knew this, but he knew with unshakeable certainly that he was right. "Erk. . . Okay Fen, that's enough. Let me up."  With a final lick, the creature obeyed, and Robin hauled himself to his feet. "Come on." He said, dusting the grit from his cape, "let's get out of here."

With that, Robin turned and walked back to the hewn steps, Fen bounding around him in a capering dance of two and four-legged motion. Neither of them spared the cave a further glance. Neither of them saw the glyph hanging in the air where it glowed briefly before vanishing. 

Notes:  
No, I don't know how Robin, having been dumped half way up a mountain, avoided a nasty case of altitude sickness. Actually, I do. It made story-telling sense for him to be fine, so he was. (Just like Batman when he went wandering around the Himalayas, in the 'Tales of the Demon' TPB.  See? Precedent.) 

Yes, Robin seems somewhat out of character to me, too. But I guess that most people would be acting a little out of character if they started hearing voices, so. . .


End file.
